Chapter 5 - The Corporate Audit and the Eviction Notice
Within twenty-four hours of Vanessa and Arthur’s failed ambush, the gloves came off entirely.
Adrian Bell didn't wait for them to make the first move. Operating under my direct authorization as CEO and primary shareholder of Northline Risk Systems, he launched a full-scale forensic audit of Chic Haven and my parents’ household subsidies.
The findings were even worse than I had anticipated.
On Friday afternoon, Adrian sat across from me in my home office, laying out a thick binder of financial discrepancies across my mahogany desk.
“Tessa, it goes deeper than we thought,” Adrian said, adjusting his glasses. “It wasn't just your mother using your corporate credit cards for grocery shopping and country club dues. Vanessa was using Northline’s vendor accounts to purchase luxury inventory for her boutique—high-end designer handbags, imported Italian leather furniture, and interior decor—and writing them off as ‘corporate office wellness supplies.’”
I rubbed my temples, feeling a dull headache forming behind my eyes. “How much?”
“Over the last three years? Close to $340,000 in fraudulent business expenses,” Adrian said gravely. “Under federal law, that crosses the threshold from civil dispute into grand larceny and wire fraud. If we hand these files to the U.S. Attorney’s office, Vanessa won't just lose her shop; she’ll be facing a mandatory federal prison sentence.”
I stared at the financial printouts. My sister. The same girl I had carried on my shoulders at amusement parks, the same sibling I had bailed out of financial scrapes year after year, had been actively committing felonies against my company behind my back.
“Do we have to press criminal charges?” I asked quietly, the last remnants of familial loyalty tugging at my heart.
“Tessa, if you don't, they will never stop,” Adrian warned. “They are already mobilizing. Your mother has been calling every extended family member, every old friend, and every local newspaper reporter in Columbus, claiming you’ve suffered a mental breakdown and abandoned your elderly parents to starve in the cold.”
“Let her talk,” I said, my jaw tightening. “Public opinion doesn't audit bank accounts. But what about the Brookhaven house?”
“The thirty-day notice of lease termination and market-rate rent demand was officially served by a process server this morning at 9:00 AM,” Adrian smiled grimly. “They have thirty days to either sign a standard commercial lease at $3,800 a month—payable in advance—or vacate the premises entirely. And since their accounts are frozen, they don't have $3,800 to their name.”
“Will they be able to afford legal representation?”
“With what money? Their credit cards are maxed out, their cash reserves were entirely dependent on your monthly stipend, and no local attorney is going to take their case on contingency when the evidence of fraud is this airtight,” Adrian said. “They are completely stranded.”
Over the next two weeks, the pressure mounted.
My mother’s smear campaign played out across local social media groups, with posts claiming I was a cold-hearted corporate tyrant who had locked my aging parents out in the cold. But because I had the foresight to document every single dollar transferred to them over eight years—along with the text messages where my mother explicitly prioritized her pickleball tournament over my injured children—mutual friends and acquaintances quickly saw through their sob story. The backlash on my mother’s public Facebook page was so brutal that she eventually deleted her account entirely.
Meanwhile, my physical recovery progressed in leaps and bounds. With daily physical therapy, a dedicated home health aide, and my sheer refusal to remain broken, I transitioned from the walker to a cane by the end of the second week. By week three, I was walking unassisted around the house, though my left shoulder still ached when the weather turned damp.
May you like
The twins were thriving. Benji took his first shaky steps across the living room rug on a Tuesday afternoon, and Rosie babbled happily whenever I scooped her up into my arms. Having them safe, secure, and surrounded by genuine peace proved that cutting off my toxic family was the best decision I had ever made.
Then came Day 29 of the eviction notice.
